


Avalanche

by Saturn06



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Margo gets tired of Eliot's shit real quick, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, There's a cat for a bit, why am I doing this to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn06/pseuds/Saturn06
Summary: To: Bambi <3‘Either my next-door neighbor is wearing a tinfoil hat or i’m still drunk..’From: Bambi <3‘The cute one? Or the jackass?’To: Bambi <3‘That’s what you focus on here?? Rly?!’From: Bambi <3‘Well?’To: Bambi <3‘….cute one.’_____________________Or: Eliot has a crush on his slightly weird neighbor and does not know how to deal with it.





	1. One glance...

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this before it was 100% done and just dump it in one chapter but.. I need validation and it seemed more likely that I was going to delete it all soon anyway so yah.
> 
> This is also the first fic I've written in like..oh...5-6 years? So. Yeeaahh.
> 
> Disclaimer: !English is so not my first language and I don't have a beta so be gentle!

 

* * *

 

_**To: Bambi <3 **  
‘Either my next-door neighbor is wearing a tinfoil hat or i’m still drunk..’ _

  
It's not the weirdest text he’s sent to Margo at 10 in the morning, to be honest. Eliot sits on his couch, phone in one hand and the other massaging his temple. His eyes flick up to the window from time to time as he waits patiently for a reply.

  
They’re gone now, the hat and neighbor, back inside after watering the abundance of plants on his balcony. The glittering of the tinfoil under the summer sun was obvious and he could in no way mistake it for something more sensible. Eliot, hung-over and hungry, sat in a chair on his own balcony could so nothing but blink and wait for the other man to notice him. How had he not in the first place? Rude.

  
Finally, after the last plant had its fill off water, the man looked around and finally saw Eliot. Neither said a word as Tinfoil Hat Man’s eyes widened before slowly stumbling into his apartment. Eliot’s sure something crashed to the ground inside, but couldn’t see if it was Tinfoil Hat Man or something else.

  
After that Eliot put down his coffee and went inside to search for his phone. And so now he waits for Margo to wake up; this is not something he can handle alone.

  
_**From: Bambi <3 ** _ _  
‘The cute one? Or the jackass?’_

  
Eliot rolls his eyes.

  
_**To: Bambi <3** _ _  
‘That’s what you focus on here?? Rly?!’ _

  
_**From: Bambi <3 ** _ **  
** _‘Well?’_

  
_**To: Bambi <3 ** _ _  
‘….cute one.’_

  
His phone vibrates with an incoming call from Bambi herself. The caller Id picture of her is the first he took of them together. He’s sentimental like that.

  
“A tinfoil hat, El? Seriously?” She asks when he picks up.

  
“I swear to everything holy in my life!” Eliot says. “He was just going around watering his assemblage of plants with damn tinfoil wrapped around his cute head!”

  
“Okay, alright,” Her voice takes on that high pitch she uses whenever he goes into hysteria mode. “Calm down there, honey. Take a deep breath.”

  
He rolls his eyes, “I am calm, Margo. I’m just missing the unconditional support and belief from my best friend.”

  
“Fine,” She sighs. “Even if he was wearing a tinfoil hat-”

  
“He was.”

  
“-I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for it.” She says, but her tone suggests she finds that highly unlikely as well. He stays silent until she huffs, “Okay. It’s weird!”

  
“Thank you!”

  
“But still... that’s not surprising considering the building you live in.”

  
“Point.” He relents. “But a tinfoil hat? That takes the three tiered, layered cake, Margo.”

  
“Wow, that’s impressive, knowing the competition.”

  
“Yeah...”

 

Eliot thinks back to when they went out to buy alcohol and came back to find the blond girl from the second floor sitting in the stairwell surrounded by books, her usually perfectly straight hair in disarray, and empty coffee cans piling up next to her. She didn’t say a word or even moved a muscle as Eliot and Margo had to practically climb over to get to his apartment on the third floor. He sees the blond occasionally and always she’s carrying around books with her.

 

She ignores pretty much everyone and Eliot sees it as a sign of luck whenever he’d get a small nod from her.

  
There’s also the guy who bakes and cooks every waking hour of the day on the fourth floor. Whenever Eliot would see him, covered in either flour, icing, or an interesting mix of both, he’s got a –and Eliot uses the term very loosely– dog with him. This dog is huge. He and Margo suspect it’s actually a wolf. And yes, she finds it hot cooking guy can handle such a wild animal. Her words, not his.

  
And there are a couple more weirdos living in his building. But, whatever. The rent’s cheap and close to work.

  
“Well, what should I do?” He asks her.

  
“What do you mean? About what? Tinfoil hat guy?”

  
That has such a nice ring to it. “Yes, obviously Tinfoil hat guy!”

  
“Maybe find out his real name?”

  
“Bambi, please.”

  
“Jesus Christ, El!” She bellows into his ear. “Fucking go talk to him if you’re this goddamn obsessed about him!”

  
“Excuse me!?” How dare she? Eliot doesn’t get ‘obsessed’ about boys. He isn’t sixteen anymore, thank you very much. “I am not obsessed with him, Margo! That’s idiotic! I’ve never really spoken to him!”

  
“Exactly.” Margo says. “So go do something about that. You’ve got the perfect conversation starter now; you don’t need my permission.”

  
Eliot gets up from the couch to pace. So yeah, maybe he’s been dying to speak to the cute boy from next door after seeing him talking to a friend of his by his door a week ago. He’d smiled at the woman and waved when she walked to the stairs. He never thought he’d ever classify a wave as adorable, but here we are.

  
“It’s even a miracle you haven’t been able to get to him since he moved in last week. Usually you’re a lot faster.”

  
Eliot steps back onto his balcony and looks out over his neighborhood. “I’m sure he’s been living there before I moved in.”

  
“And that’s what? A month or three ago?” She asks, and she’s right. “And you’ve only seen him once? That’s... strange.”

  
“You could say that again.”

  
She snickers, “And to think the second time you see him he’s in a tinfoil fucking hat.”

  
“What can I say,” He says confidently. “Nerdy, conspiracy theorists are my type.”

  
At that moment Eliot looks to the balcony next to his to find said nerdy, conspiracy theorist in the doorway staring at him, mouth slightly open in what Eliot can only imagine is a mix of shock and disbelief.   
And again. Without a word Tinfoil hat guy –now without said trademark feature– steps back and closes the door.

  
“Fuck. My. Entire. Life.”

  
“He heard that didn’t he?”

  
“Without a doubt in my mind.”

 

 

_**________________________________** _

 

 

__**To: Bambi <3**   
‘Margo, there’s a cat in my sink..’   
‘Idonthaveacat’ 

  
_**From: Bambi <3   
‘** _ _Why is there a cat in your sink?’_

  
_**To: Bambi <3 **___  
‘I? Don’t? Know?’  
‘I came home from work and now there’s a cat.’ 

 

  
She calls him not a minute later.

  
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says after picking up. He’s standing in his kitchen, in the middle of a staring contest with the intruder. A white cat sits snugly in his sink; it’s tail swishing back and forth lazily, looking at home, and Eliot is in love.

 

“It’s cute, but I’m too young to be a cat-dad.”

  
“So you’ve told me on multiple occasions.” She says.

 

“Margo. Help me, please.”

  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, El! It’s just a cat! Leave it and wait for the owner to show up, or get it out of your apartment. I don’t care.”

  
She hangs up soon after and leaves Eliot to deal with the white fur-ball. Just kicking it out of his apartment seems cruel, and she’s looking at him with her beautiful blue eyes and he just can’t. He’ll just put it in his bedroom for now, then go around the building to ask if someone’s missing her and if not... well. He’ll figure something out.

  
But for now, step one: get the cat.

  
Eliot takes two steps towards the feline, holding out his hands. The cat looks at him and keeps looking as he gets closer. He apparently crosses an imaginary line and her eyes squint and she hisses fiercely. Eliot jumps back.

  
“Okay, okay.” He pants, heart beating wildly. “Your sink now! Got it!”

  
The cat looks around the sink and notices a mug close to her. Close enough for her to reach it with a paw and Eliot’s heart sinks. Margo gave him that mug when she went to Ibiza without him that one time. They usually always go together, but Eliot had just started a new job and couldn’t possibly ask for a couple of days off.

  
She came back, tanned as if she’s been sunbathing in hell, and got him a mug from the airport on her way back home. He loves it.

  
But is he willing to risk the wrath of a cat with sharp teeth and nails?

  
“Please, don’t,” Eliot says and watches how the cat flicks her paw and the mug goes off the edge. It smashes into the ground with a loud noise and breaks into pieces. She seems proud of herself and looks around for her next victim.

  
Suddenly, there’s a firm knock on his door. Eliot doesn’t move, and the cat is now trying to reach another cup. After a minute, the knock repeats and this Eliot put down his phone. The cat stares at him as he turns and leaves.

  
He unlocks and opens his door and finds Tinfoil guy rocking nervously on the balls of his feet. His longs hair is loose and falling over his face. He looks up at Eliot and takes a breath.

  
“H-hi,” he stammers. “I’ve lost my cat. Or-uh-my friends’ cat that is. Not mine. I don’t have a pet. I’m just cat-sitting for a few days while Jules is out of town, but now I’ve lost her-”

He takes a split second to breathe in before continuing, “-and I’m afraid something has happened to her. She’s only 1,5 years old -to be honest, I don’t know if that’s old for a cat already of if I can still call her a baby or not. S-so, yeah, I was wondering if you’ve seen her since our balconies are close to each other.”

  
Eliot blinks, because wow. He makes a mental note to add ‘nervous ramblings’ to his list of things that shouldn’t be called adorable but totally are. Somehow.

  
“You’re looking for a cat?” Eliot surmises, having caught up with the word vomit and able to catch his bearings. He cocks a hip and leans against the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted. “Because I just so happen to got one breaking my mugs in the kitchen.”

  
There’s a sparkle of hope blooming in the shorter man’s dark eyes.

  
Eliot asks, “White? Knows she’s stunning and acts like a total diva?”

  
“That’s her! I think.” He makes a motion towards his neck. “She also has a yellow collar?”

  
“Yup,” Eliot nods.

  
Tinfoil hat guy deflates in clear relief, “Oh, thank God.”

  
“Oh, no, my name’s Eliot.”

  
Yeah, that one was bad. Eliot cringes hard mentally and can see Margo shake her head with pursed lips in utter disappointment of him. But then the guy smiles, and all is well in the world.

  
“I’m Quentin Coldwater,” he says and holds out his hand for Eliot to shake.

  
“Well, Quentin Coldwater,” Eliot steps back and holds the door open for Quentin, sweeping a hand to invite him further. “Please go collect your friends’ cat before all my mugs get shattered.”

  
Quentin chuckles and Eliot leads him to the kitchen just as the second mug falls. He hears Quentin jump at the sound. The cat looks up from the mug shard carnage on the floor and meows sweetly at the sight of Quentin. The brave man goes over to her and gently picks her up. She’s docile in his arms and is Eliot seriously getting jealous of a cat? Yes, maybe a little.

  
“I’m so sorry about these...” Quentin looks down guiltily. “She must have gotten out when I was watering my plants. I didn’t notice at all since I’m not used to having a cat.”

  
“It’s fine,” Eliot assures him with a wave of his hand. “I’ll glue them tomorrow.”

  
“I can do that!”

  
“You don’t have-”

  
“I’ll do it!” Quentin’s whole demeanor changed from nervous and slightly panicking to determined to fix something as silly as two mugs. “It’s my fault she got into your apartment in the first place. So let me make it up to you.”

  
“Well, alright then.” He smiles, intrigued and pleasantly surprised. “I’ll look forward to it.”   
Quentin blushes and it’s amazing. He leaves with the furry menace purring on his shoulder, tripping over his own words as he apologizes some more.

  
The next day Quentin brings over some super glue, and they put back the mugs together, some random Netflix show paying in the background as they talk about their lives. Eliot learns that the cat’s name is Lady–as it should be-, and she belongs to his best friend Julia. He also learns that Quentin is only a year younger than him, works as a professor at a school nearby, and is a bit of a nerd.

  
Quentin gets a glint in his eyes when the conversation turns to books. “I do this thing where I read all the Harry Potter books during Christmas.”

 

“All of them? After the other?”

 

“Yeah,” Quentin ducks his head, “Kinda lame, huh?”

 

Eliot shakes his head. “Nah, not at all. I basically do the same, but with Swayze movies.”

 

Quentin laughs and Eliot loves the sound-it makes his heart skip and warms his blood. They spend the rest of the afternoon talking about this and that; dumb shit they did as kids, friends, and families, the whole nine yards. It’s easy, Eliot finds, to talk to Quintin like this. The only other person he has that with is Margo.

 

Lady is curled up in Eliot’s lap as Quentin talks about his girlfriend, Alice. They met a year ago at the library and have been dating for quite a while now–they’ve been talking about maybe moving in together. And that...

 

Sucks. A little, Eliot won’t lie about that. _A boyfriend or girlfriend hasn’t stopped us before,_ a voice in the back of his mind says, leaving a sour taste in the back of his throat.

 

They talk about Margo at one point, and Eliot invites Quentin to a party she’s having next weekend.

 

“Oh-um... I’m not sure,” Quentin says, eyes shifting back and forth. “I don’t do well at parties.”

 

“Pfsh, bullshit,” Eliot smiles. “Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I promise!”

 

Quentin looks at him with narrowed eyes. He seems to hesitate for a second or two before asking, “You promise?”

 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

 

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

 

“Oh, sweet summer child, if you think that’s dramatic just wait ‘till you see Margo.”

 

Quentin looks unperturbed, “Should I be scared of Margo?”

 

Eliot laughs gleefully, “Oh, absolutely!”

 

Quentin leaves when the sun begins to set in the late afternoon. They exchanged phone numbers - and you can bet Quentin is listed in Eliot’s phone at ‘Tinfoil hat’- and promise that Eliot will come and pick Quentin up for Margo’s party. After Eliot closes the door behind Quentin, he takes a moment. 

 

He takes a moment to breathe in deeply and let it out, the scent of Quintin’s laundry detergent - lavender? - lingers and for some reason Eliot takes another sniff. He stops, shakes his head and turns around to the living room where the two mugs sit on the coffee table. He should get a hot rag to wipe off remnants of glue, but he can’t seem to get his brain to comply. 

 

Before today he was only slightly curious about the cute neighbor, but Eliot had a sinking feeling this could very quickly and very violently become something more. Something emberassingly more. 

 

 


	2. ... and the avalanche drops

 

_**To: Bambi <3** _

_We'll be at your place in 20 min!_

 

_**From: Bambi <3** _

_That's what you said 20 fucking minutes ago, dick.._

_What's taking so long?!_

 

_**To: Bambi <3** _

_I know I know!_

_Just had a little fashion emergency!_

 

_**From: Bambi <3** _

_Did he want to wear his tinfoil hat?_

 

Eliot smiles at his phone and types out a quick reply as he waits on Quintin’s couch for him to come out of his bedroom. While it wasn’t the tinfoil hat Quintin intended to wear to the party, it was just as horrible. Quintin opened the door to Eliot’s knock in a zipped up hoodie and baggy jeans.

 

“No.” Eliot has said and–with Quintin complaining loudly all the way–promptly dragged him to his bedroom and ordered him to change.

 

“What’s wrong with this?” Quintin asked.

 

“Everything! Every-fucking-thing!”

 

Thank God Eliot found a nice-looking button up and cardigan in the back of Quintin’s closet. He makes a mental note to take him shopping soon; that boy is a mess.

 

“I still don’t think I had to change.” Quintin pouts when he shuffles into his living room. The dark colors of the shirt and cardigan look good on him and the jeans at least fit him properly.

 

Eliot gets up. “Margo would have skinned you alive if you dared show up to her party like that. Not fun for anyone.”

 

Quintin looks a bit uncertain at that, but shrugs it off. Eliot hands Quintin his coat; they take off and fifteen minutes later they’re standing in the elevator riding it up to the fifth floor. Quintin looks impressed by the fancy building, but doesn’t question it.

 

They get off and walk down the red-carpeted hallway; Eliot striding in front with Quintin following. Eliot fishes out the spare key to her apartment out of his pocket and opens the door with the muffled music coming from inside. There are people in the entryway with a drink in their hands talking and Eliot pushes past them. They store their coats in Margo’s bedroom before making their way towards the living room. Eliot gets held up a couple of times by people he knows and who want to know how he’s doing. Yes, yes, fine, talk to you later. Or never.

 

He spots Margo immediately sitting on her L-shaped white couch with a glass of wine in her hand and people flocking around her to get a bit of her attention. They’re all forgotten as she locks eyes with Eliot and a smile grows on her beautiful face. She gets up without a word and goes to embrace Eliot. He gladly hugs her back and breathes in the smell of her shampoo.

 

“Took you fucking long enough.” She says when they part with narrowed eyes.

 

Eliot grins. “Well, I’m here now, Bambi.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes land on Quintin and she looks him up and down, making him shuffle his feet and avert his gaze.

 

“Quentin, this is Margo.” Eliot wraps an arm around her and squeezes her bare shoulder. “Bambi, this is Quentin.”

 

Margo beams and looks the man in front of her up and down. “Well, well, and here I thought you’d come in a tinfoil hat.”

 

Quentin flushes, “Oh, um, yeah that was-uh- my friend and I were watching X-files. And we, um, used to make the hats when we were little, so it seemed fun to make them again. I totally forgot I was wearing it for the rest of the, uh, day. S-so...”

 

Margo laughs in delight and leans into Eliot. “You were right, El; adorable.”

 

Quentin frowns, not sure if he’s supposed to take that as a compliment or not, so Eliot smiles at him. “T-thanks...?”

 

“Let’s get you a drink, baby.” Margo takes Quentin by the arm and leads him into the living room and deposits him on her sofa. “What’s your poison?”

 

“Uh, I’ll let you decide?”

 

Margo smiles like a proud mother and pats him on the head. “I like your style, Coldwater. El, come with me.”

 

“Uh,” Quintin stammers and looks slightly panicked at the prospect of being left alone even if for a short while.

 

“Be back in a second,” Eliot assures him. “You’ll be fine!”

 

He joins Margo at the drinks table where she hands him the alcohol he uses in his specialty cocktail in a silent order.

 

“So, he’s cute.” Margo side eyes him.

 

“Give it a rest, Bambi.” Eliot sighs, pouring his drink into a glass. “He has a girlfriend. Alice, and she actually lives in our building.”

 

Margo lifts a brow at him, signaling for him to get on with it and spit it out.

 

“That one blond we ran into. With the books and studying on the stairs?”

 

She frowns, but nods slowly, “Makes sense, I guess. Weird attracts weird.”

 

“Quintin isn’t weird..” Eliot says, insulted on behalf of Quintin. “He’s... quirky.”

 

“Uh-huh..” Margo cocks a hip and looks out over her party, taking sips from her wine. “So she lives in the same building as her boyfriend, but they’re not living together?”

 

Eliot rolls his eyes. “Yeah, she’s the one who told him about the cheap rent of the place and he moved into the apartment one floor above hers.”

 

“Right...”

 

They look over at Quintin sitting on the couch. He’s trying to act casual, but he fails when two girls walk up to him. His shoulder bunch up and tense as they sit on either side of him. One girl flicks her hair and says something that makes him blush furiously. It’s clear he stammers out a reply a normal person wouldn’t say and the two girls grimace.

 

“Come on,” Margo says, picking up Quintin’s glass to take with her. “Let’s go rescue our little nerd.”

 

Eliot has to fight down the smile he gets at the word ‘our’. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d felt anxious letting Quintin meet Margo. She was the most important person to him and her approval of his new friend mattered to him. But as he watches Margo shoo away the girls with a flick of her wrist and sit down next to Quintin, handing over the glass, he feels at ease and joins them.

 

Two hours–and many drinks–later; Margo has her head in his lap and Quentin slumps against his right side. Quentin has his phone out, the light glaring making him squint. He’s texting with Alice, but Margo makes him put the phone away and replaces it with even more alcohol.

 

At the end of the night Eliot and Quentin leave together, the next morning Eliot goes over to Quintin’s apartment and they ride out the hang-over together and Quintin admits that he wouldn’t mind going again sometime. So that’s what happens.

 

They attend Margo’s second party and it ends almost the same, only Margo joins them in the morning and they spend the day at Eliot’s and order takeout while watching the first Lord of the Rings movie.

 

At the third, Quentin comes over with Julia. Eliot decides he likes her after she goes full out with a stupid drinking game, and she impresses even Margo. Quintin still sticks close to him and Margo, but that’s fine. Eliot wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

The week after that is when Eliot meets Alice.

 

It’s a Wednesday and Eliot walks up the stairs to the third floor after a shift at the bar. He steps on the landing just as Q’s door opens and he walks out with a tall blond behind him. Her hair falls straight down over her shoulder, one side tucked behind her ear, and her dark-rimmed glasses sit high up her nose. She’s wearing a proper outfit; a blouse tucked into a skirt, tights, and heeled black boots.

 

Quentin locks his front door and notices Eliot. He smiles. “Hey, El.”

 

Eliot loves hearing the familiar nickname Q has started to use more and more recently. The first time after Quentin called him ‘El’ he looked up shyly at him, silently asking if it was okay. Eliot had answered by copying what Julia had called him –just a simple Q- and that was that.

 

“This is Alice Quinn,” Q says, and Alice gives him a tight-lipped smile. “My girlfriend.”

 

“Ah, the famous Alice,” Eliot smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Alice. I’m Eliot, Quintin’s neighbor.”

 

Alice nods. “Yes, I’ve heard about you. Pleasure.”

 

A pleasure meeting him... Eliot doubts it by the way she dismisses him with a single glance.

 

“But we’ve technically met before, right? Have you, perhaps, used the building stairwell as a library on one occasion?” Eliot asks.

 

Alice turns red, glances at Quintin and then back at him, “I-I, um, yes..? Yes. I have. Quintin wasn’t home even though we agreed to meet up, and I was waiting for him.”

 

Quentin then changes the subject, telling Eliot that they were about to go get dinner at a restaurant downtown and that they should better go now. Eliot waves as they leave.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_Q! What time are you gonna be here?!_

 

_**From: Tinfoil hatter** _

_Soon!!_

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_That's not an answer you dick </3_

 

_**From: Tinfoil hatter** _

_:-*_

_Five minutes tops!_

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_:-* <3_

 

 “Gross,” Margo snides, reading the exchange over his shoulder. She throws back her wine. “Just bang already, Jesus Christ.”

 

Eliot rolls his eyes and pockets his phone. “He has a girlfriend, remember.”

 

“So?” She looks at him in a way that marks the return of the familiar sour taste in the back of his throat.

 

He shakes his head. “Not going to do that to him.”

 

“Wow,” she sounds impressed. “You really like him, huh?”

 

“Drop it, Margo,” he warns her. He’s found that he can be Quintin’s friend, but only if he takes all of his feelings for him other than innocent friendship, stuff it in a box and throws it away to a dark place in his mind. Each day the box gets a little fuller and for now it’ll hold. “Please.”

 

“Fine, fine,” she sighs. “But don’t come running when this all blows up in your face.”

 

Eliot rolls his eyes at her and then Quintin comes in and his attention is fully on him.

 

It starts to rain just as he and Q are getting ready to leave. They entertain the thought of going anyway–it’s only water–when a flash accompanied by a loud rumbling makes them jump.

 

“Just take my guest bedroom.” Margo says, and she leads them to it.

 

There’s one twin bed and that.. Eliot peeks at Quintin while Margo wishes them a good night and crosses the hall to her own bedroom. Quintin seems to be thinking the same as him and says, “Maybe I could sleep on the couch?”

 

“Don’t. Trust me; It’ll ruin your back.” Eliot grimaces as he thinks back to a night he fell asleep on the soft-looking furniture and woke up with a backache from hell. No way is he letting either of them sleep on that thing when there’s a perfectly good bed right there. “Or… you’re uncomfortable sharing the bed? Because I can go sleep with Margo, no problem.”

 

“Isn’t there some guy waiting for her in there?”

 

“Oh, yeah.”

 

“Right.” Q smiles shyly up at him. “But, it’s fine. Let’s go to sleep.”

 

They undress in silence; the only sound coming from the rain hitting the window and the thunder rumbling in the sky. Eliot folds his shirt and pants neatly over the back of a chair and silently judges Quintin just throwing his clothes on the floor, kicking them out of the way and climbs in bed. Quintin sees him look and sticks out his tongue. He joins Q a little later dressed similarly in only his boxers. He gets comfortable on his back and Quintin turns of the small lamp by his bedside and the room turns dark.

 

“Goodnight, El.” Quintin says.

 

“Night, Q.”

 

He’s lies awake, staring at the ceiling wondering if he’ll be able to sleep with a nearly naked Q right there next to him, when Quintin whispers into the dark. “Alice and I broke up...”

 

Eliot doesn’t dare move even an inch. “Oh?”

 

Quintin huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, we do that a lot, actually. That time you saw her on the stairs?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“She sat there only so she could immediately break up with me when I came back. Said something about me not giving a shit about her, that we don’t know each other. The usual.”

 

“Harsh,” Eliot says. “Is that why you two broke up this time?”

 

“Uh, no.” Quintin clears his throat and shifts beside Eliot. Okay, so that’s not something they’re talking about. “But she was right. That one time. About us not knowing each other.”

 

Eliot turns towards Quintin. He can almost see him. “How come? Aren’t you supposed to know the person you’re dating?”

 

“You’d think that, yes!” Quintin says and takes a shuddering breath. “We got into a relationship way too quickly. It all went so fast. One moment I was meeting her for the first time and not a week later we’re dating and another week after that I’ve moved into her building. We don’t...listen. We don’t listen to each other.”

 

“Oh, that’s, uh. That’s pretty important in a relationship, they say.”

 

“Yup,” Quintin pops the ‘p’.

 

“Are you...sad? About it ending with Alice?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Q cringes, “No, wait, that sounds horrible. I’m sad, but I also know it’s for the best. You know?”

 

“Sure, sure...”

 

“Yeah...”

 

And then they’re kissing and it’s wonderful, but Eliot wonders if they should do this with alcohol flowing through their veins. Quentin’s tongue invades Eliot’s mouth and the last fuck he could give crashes out of the window. He grabs the back of Q’s neck and pulls him closer. Their hips align and Eliot grinds into him, making Q let out the most delicious moan ever.

 

They grab at each other clothes and push and pull until they’re naked and Quintin runs his hands up and down Eliot’s back and licks his neck. Eliot lets one hand wander further down and takes Quintin in a firm grip, making him gasp into Eliot’s shoulder. It’s all very frantic and desperate, like they’ve been waiting for months or even years for a chance to touch, to kiss, to stroke, but Eliot doesn’t complain.

 

He doesn’t complain when Quintin pulls Eliot on top of him, in between his thighs, or as Quintin rummages around in the drawer of his nightstand and pushes a condom into Eliot’s hand. It’s all perfect. Sure, he fumbles a little with the condom, but Quintin says nothing and just kisses him deeply and it steadies Eliot’s hands.

 

They moan and sigh and grunt and when Eliot pushes into Quintin, he let’s out a whispered, “Fuck.” Because, fuck, it feels so good and if the blissed out look on Quintin’s face is any indicator, so does he.

 

Eliot starts his pace slow and controlled; not wanting to accidentally hurt Q, and only speeds up when Quintin literally begs him to do so ‘for fuck’s sake’. He chuckles darkly and complies.

 

Quintin cries out each time Eliot pushes back in and it makes Eliot feel light-headed. He doesn’t dare stop, though. Not when he’s so close and Q is digging his nails into his back pleading with him.

 

“Please, please, fuck, Eliot.”

 

“I know.” Eliot gets out in between pants. “Come on, baby.”

 

Quintin comes with a startled cry and Eliot follows him not soon after.

 

“Fucking hell,” Eliot gasps for breath, letting himself fall on top of Q who giggles drunkenly.

 

“I know, right?”

 

They fall asleep entangled, Quintin resting his head on Eliot’s shoulder and his hand over his heart and Eliot thinks he could absolutely get used to this as cheesy as it sounds.

 

The next morning, when Eliot is getting dressed after round two, Quintin sits up on the bed.

 

“So, uh...” Quintin looks up at him from in between the curtain of hair. There’s confusion and uncertainness in his eyes, but his mouth is quirking up in a tentative smile, and it’s so precious Eliot feels his own answering smile take over.

 

“Let’s not over think this, yeah?” He offers and Quintin ducks his head to hide a blush, but he nods enthusiastically and Eliot laughs.

 

They don’t label this thing between them. Eliot is way too scared to even bring it up, but then again, Q doesn’t either and they roll with it. They hang out at each other’s apartment watching more movies. They go to parties and even host their own one or two times. And they have sex. Dear Lord, do they ever. There’s hardly a night they spent apart anymore, and it’s glorious. Eliot wakes up with either Quintin right there next to him or lying on top of him or in the kitchen getting coffee, but never far away.

 

Since she lives one floor below them, they sometimes run into Alice. It’s awkward and Eliot looks away when Quintin throws her a shy smile.

 

But they’re good.

 

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_Q, I hate working :/_

_Had a drunk girl that thought she could get her drinks for free if she flashed me her tits.._

_Bet you're asleep..i want to be asleep._

_I'll call you in the morning <3_

 

_\-----_

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_Q I called but you didn't pick up?_

_You okay? Want me to come over?_

 

_**From: Tinfoil hatter** _

_Sorry_

_im fine. Busy sorry_

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_Okay?_

_Just text me when you got time then_

 

_\- - - – - -_

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_Quintin?_

_Are you really okay? I haven't heard from you for nearly a week.._

_I get it if you're busy but give me a sign of life once in a while maybe??_

_Q?_

_Come on Quintin! I knocked on your door like a hundred times but you're never there or???_

 

_\- - - – - - -_

 

_**To: Tinfoil hatter** _

_yeah okay fine.. guess i'll take the hint_

 

Until they're not.

 

\- - - 

 

 

This time Eliot is the one to call Margo. He’s biting his lip, pacing around aimlessly, his hand gripping in phone, the other clenched into a fist.

 

“El, it’s way too early for this.” Margo says groggily.

 

“I know, I know, Bambi.” He says. “I... it’s just-”

 

“Eliot?” She immediately sounds more awake. “What’s wrong, honey?”

 

“I fucked up.” Eliot swallows down the lump in his throat. “I fucked shit up with Q.”

 

“What? I’m sure you didn’t, El.” Margo’s voice is soft and usually it would calm him down.

 

“I saw his ex-girlfriend Alice leave his apartment this morning.” Eliot spits out.

 

“Well,” Margo says after a slight hesitation. “There must be some logical explanation for that.”

 

Eliot scoffs, “Margo, please. It’s fucking obvious, isn’t it? He’s been ghosting me all week and now suddenly the girl he’s had an on-again-off-again relationship with saunters out of his place - looking quite disheveled, I might add–at fucking seven A.M.? You gotta admit the message is pretty clear!”

 

He’s out of breath at the end of his rant. His chest feels tight and his nails are digging into the skin of his palm.

 

“This isn’t like you, El.” She says placating. “You’re getting worked up over some guy you’re not even technically dating. What’s the deal?”

 

“The deal?” he hisses into the phone. “The deal, Bambi, is that I’m a fucking idiot and I ruin everything. The deal is that I’m almost certain I’ve fallen in love with him and I’ve fucked up.”

 

“Then go fucking fix it! If you really love him, you go and try to get him back! Why am I spelling it out for you?!” Margo screeches and...

 

Shit, she’s right.

 

“Holy shit... You’re right-”

 

“Damn right I am!”

 

“Shit, Margo, I love you-”

 

“Damn right you do!”

 

“Okay gotta go!”

 

“Damn ri-”

 

He hangs up, jumps over his couch and is out in the hallway in record time. But... Now what? He’d tried getting in contact with Q plenty of times over the week to no avail. How can he talk to Quintin now he’s finally got his head out of his ass if he won’t open the door?

 

He tries again.

 

He knocks and waits.

 

And waits.

 

And he’s about to duct tape the box shut completely when the sound of heels echoing down the stairwell and none other than Alice Quinn appearing at the landing makes him freeze. Alice’s eyes widen, flicker between him and Quintin’s door, and she sighs.

 

“He hasn’t been in contact with you, then?”

 

He shakes his head lamely.

 

“Damn it, Quintin. Okay, fine. Is there someplace we can talk?” She asks.

 

And, “Who says I feel the need to talk to you?”

 

Alice rolls her eyes. “If this is about the other day; it’s not what you think.”

 

“And what do I think?”

 

“That Quintin and I are back together. Which we’re not. He needed someone to talk to and Julia is out of town again.”

 

“Talk about what?” Eliot asks, frowning.

 

“That’s what I want to tell you.” Alice huffs, getting visibly agitated. “But if you don’t care, fine.”

 

Eliot shakes his head. “No, no. I care. I just-” He doesn’t know what he wants to say next. He’s confused and curious, so he takes Alice to his apartment and they sit down.

 

Alice is wringing her hands when she speaks, “Quintin is depressed. Like, clinically depressed. And right now he’s not okay, and that’s why he isn’t responding to you.”

 

“W-what?” Eliot asks because, what? “He-”

 

“He suffers from depression. Yes.”

 

And. Okay.

 

She pushes her hair behind her ears. “And that’s why I was with him that night. He asked me to come over, and I did.” She glances at him and adds, “I slept on the couch.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. I urged him to just tell you what’s going on, and he wants to, but he’s scared.”

 

“Scared of what?” Eliot asks. “That’ll I’ll reject him? I won’t.”

 

“I know that. He knows that, realistically. But right now he can’t think straight. His own brain is sabotaging him and he can’t help it.”

 

Eliot nods slowly. That he can understand. “So, what do I do?”

 

She frowns at him, assessing him in a way that makes him uncomfortable. He’s about to speak up when she sighs. “I’ll go talk to him and see if he wants to see you.”

 

And with that she gets up and leaves. The door clicks shut behind her and Eliot is alone again. He lets out a controlled breath and waits for...something. He switches between walking around his home and sitting back down until there’s a knock.

 

It’s Alice. She nods. “You can go in.” She gestured to Quintin’s now open front door. “He’s in his bedroom.” He throws her a smile as thanks and goes to see Quintin.

 

Eliot finds him sitting up in his bed. The curtains are open, but just enough to let in a little light. There are food wrappers lying on the floor around the bed and a couple of empty glasses on the nightstand. Q is dressed in a hoodie with holes and he looks tired. There are bags under his eyes and he’s pale, his hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a while, but Eliot feels himself calm at the sight of him, anyway.

 

He missed Quintin.

 

“Hi.” Q mumbles, hiding behind his hair.

 

“Hey,” Eliot says.

 

“So,” Quintin clears his throat. “Alice told you everything, huh?”

 

“Not everything. Just the basics.”

 

Q scoffs. “She shouldn’t have even told you that. It’s not hers to tell.”

 

“True, perhaps.” Eliot nods, leaning back against the wall. “But I, for one, am happy she did.”

 

Time to be brave.

 

“I thought I’d fucked up somehow.” Eliot says. “I thought you had enough of me.”

 

Quintin looks horrified. “No! Never. I-it’s my fault! My mind breaks sometimes, um, and I j-just become useless, I guess. And, um. But I never wanted. That’s not true. I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry, El.”

 

Eliot goes to sit on the bed next to Quintin. “Hey, hey, no, it’s okay.”

 

But Quintin shakes his head. “It’s not. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. You shouldn’t have to get hurt because of me. Because I can’t act normal.”

 

“Stop.” Eliot’s voice hardens, and it shuts Q up. They look at each other. “You’re not broken. Or damaged. Never say that.”

 

“But-”

 

“Nope! My turn to talk now so shush.” He makes sure Quintin’s listening before continuing, “You get depressed sometimes. That sucks. I’m sorry that happens to you and I would love to take it all away from you. To make it all better, but I can’t. I want to, though. And I can get being too scared to tell someone something in fear of rejection, but sometimes you should just say it.”

 

He breathes in to begin his next sentence, but the words get stuck. He wants to lay it all out in the open: everything he packed up in that box he shoved away. He wants to tell Quintin he loves him and that he wants to be there for him when things get rough. He wants to say how happy he’s been ever since he saw Q with tinfoil around his head. But the box stays shut. He can’t do it.

 

Quintin takes his silence as a permission to talk again, “Y-you’re right. Alice told me the same thing. Julia as well a while back.”

 

Q closes his eyes and shakes his head. He’s nervous and his shoulders are tense, but he opens his eyes and Eliot’s heart skips a beat at the tears forming in them.

 

“Q?”

 

“I love you.” Quintin finally says, looking Eliot dead in the eye, “And I’m still afraid, but I want an actual relationship. Labels and all. With you.”

 

And with those words the box in the back of his mind finally breaks. Eliot can only sit there, staring at Quintin, as he’s getting overwhelmed by an avalanche of hope, and joy, and awe, and–most of all–love. There’s a dash of anger at himself mixed in between there, but that’s okay because there’s a smile on his face and Quintin is looking at him. And, damn it, when did he get so soft?!

 

 

“Me too,” A desperate laugh escapes him. “All that. Me too.”

 

“Yeah?” Quintin smiles. “You sure?”

 

“Am I sure?” Eliot takes Quintin’s face in his hands, rubbing his thumb gently against his cheek. “Absolutely. One hundred percent. I love you, too.”

 

Quintin surges forward and smashes their lips together and it hurts a little and it’s amazing. They don’t go any further than that; instead, they lie in Quintin’s bed together and talk and nap. There’s a smile on Eliot’s face the entire time.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Next Saturday night, Eliot gets up to answer the door and let Margo in. Quintin is feeling better and agreed to invite her over for movie night. They’re watching the X-files movie. The 2008 one as they watched the 1998 one two days ago with Julia. Eliot plants a loud kiss on Quintin’s cheek before he goes.

 

It’s been a busy week for both of them. They’ve been mostly talking and staying indoors; Quintin not having enough energy for anything else just yet. Quintin explained his depression as much as he could; how he gets lethargic and stays in bed, how his thoughts turn everything negative no matter the subject, and what he’ll need from Eliot when it happens again. Eliot, in turn, has been looking up articles about depression and talked to Alice and Julia more.

 

“All you can do is just be there.” Julia had said. “You can’t fix it so don’t try to. Just show him you won’t leave.”

 

He can do that. He _wants_ to do that for Quintin.

 

He opens the door and Margo says, “No way.”

 

“Yes way.” Eliot smirks. “We made one just for you.”

 

“Eliot. I will not put tinfoil on my head.” She eyes the hat on his head with a dirty scowl like it’ll attack her or something.

 

“Bambi,” he says. “My dear boyfriend has made you a tinfoil hat. Wear it.”

 

She shakes her head but says, “You’re lucky I love both of you.”

 

She stomps in, goes to Q and begrudgingly demands where the hat is. Quintin smiles up at her, his own hat wrapped snugly around his head, and points to the coffee table. She takes a moment to glare at Q, but ultimately relents and puts the tinfoil on her head.

 

“You look beautiful, Bambi.”

 

“Shut up.” she says. Eliot takes his place besides Quintin and Q presses up against him. She gestured to them. “You two good, then?”

 

Eliot looks at Quintin and lets him answer for them. “We’re good. Great.”

 

“Well, thank fuck.” She lets herself drop on the couch and takes Eliot’s arm to wrap around her shoulder where it belongs. “I was getting real fucking tired of your shit.”

 

Quintin falls asleep on his shoulder mid-way through. He breathes softly in and out and Eliot focuses more on that than the movie, to be honest. He takes the tinfoil hat from Quintin’s head and throws it on the table. Beside him, Margo does the same with hers.

 

“Thank fuck.” She sits back, running her fingers through her long strands of hair. “So, tell me. Are you two really okay?”

 

“We are. Maybe we won’t be all the time, but we agreed to be honest with each other.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“He promised he’d tell me when he feels the depression creep up on him and that’s all I ask, honestly.”

 

“Aw,” Margo coos, “You sound like such a grownup.”

 

“I know!” Eliot grins at her. “Weird, right?”

 

“Who’s have thought a boy in a tinfoil hat would make you grow up?”

 

“Miracles do exist.”

 

“Did you just call your boyfriend a ‘miracle’? Gross.”

 

“‘S sweet,” Quintin mumbles sleepily.

 

“Yeah, but gross.” Margo counters.

 

“ _You’re_ gross,” Quintin smiles, eyes open now, and he shifts to press a kiss to Eliot’s lips. Eliot pulls Quintin back in for another kiss and Margo makes a retching noise, but she squeezes his hand.

 

“You love us.” Eliot says to her, and she promptly knocks his tinfoil hat off his head making Quintin laugh and Eliot smiles because it’s his favorite sound in the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos! I'm really happy people liked my fic! Hopefully you'll like this last chapter as well!
> 
> The song I used for the title and chapters is Avalanche by Walk The Moon btw!
> 
> I'm also on tumblr as saturnx06 :)

**Author's Note:**

> tbc


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